Small Smiles
by blaster342
Summary: Castiel's many attempts to wooing one Sam Winchester continues. Sastiel, sequel to Little Crush.


One of the many things Castiel loves about Sam Winchester is his smiles. There are many different kinds of smiles, and every smile has its own variations. Sam has a shy, dimpled smile that he tries to hide by ducking his head and letting hair fall in his eyes. The dimples appear in every smile, and Castiel wishes to make them appear as often as possible.

"Hey Castiel!" a cheerful voice calls, interrupting his thoughts.

Charlie Bradbury is a very interesting human being. Castiel just isn't sure how to respond to her… enthusiasm. She is staying at the bunker for a few days as the Winchesters' guest and had been most pleased to meet the angel.

Unfortunately, she happened to see Castiel give Sam chocolate, and (unlike Sam) she immediately jumped to the conclusion that they are a couple. Well. Not that Castiel would mind but…

"Honestly, the two of you would be such a sweet couple," she practically squeaks. She had said something about them being in desperate need of a matchmaker. Or a relationship consulter.

"Thank you?"

She leans a little bit closer over the table and raises her eyebrows. "Sooo..?"

"…So, what?"

"Why aren't you? A couple, I mean."

Castiel absently picks at the hem of his trench coat, feeling a tad bit self-conscious. "I'm afraid my knowledge in the field of courtship is quite nonexistent," he finally says.

Charlie hums. "Presents are good, don't worry about that. But have the two of you ever been out together? Like, except for hunts or research at the library? No? Well, what are you waiting for? Go ask him – start slow, buy him a coffee, take a walk, make a nice trip somewhere – not hunt related, that is."

That does sound like a good idea, and he decides that he trusts Charlie more than the bipolar internet sites.

**oOo**

He thinks about the coffee thing a lot and debates on whether he should ask Sam out or not, and finally decides that yes, he will swallow his wrecked nerves and do just that.

The Winchesters' current location is in a ratty motel room and he takes a brief moment to silently question their taste in resting places as he lands there. Neither of the brothers notices him; too busy bickering over something Castiel doesn't bother trying to understand.

Well. Maybe he _would_ have understood, had he not been… distracted.

It's obvious that they had recently stopped for the night and are taking turns showering, and apparently Sam had won the first turn today. He's only wearing jeans _(with __**quite**__ a low waist, mind you)_ and he's bending forward to search through his duffel, most likely for a clean shirt. His back is turned and the muscles are rippling right under the skin. He's talking to Dean who's standing with one hand at the doorknob to the bathroom, both of them sassing back and forth.

Sam turns his head to glare at Dean over his shoulder, but by doing that he also spots Castiel standing behind the older Winchester.

"Cas!" Sam exclaims and swirls around, standing up to his full height… which is just showing more skin and giving Castiel a better look.

Dean swears loudly and rounds on the angel. "_How_ many times am I going to say this? Don't **do** that!"

"I…um…" Castiel feels mortified over his vessel's tongue tangling over itself. Sam and Dean frown in unison before Dean's eyes widen in sudden realization.

"Dammit Cas, stop ogling my little brother!" he snaps and throws a towel over Sam.

"Dude," Sam protests.

"Shut up, someone's gotta be around to protect your virtue."

Castiel is rather rudely banned from their motel room by the older brother after that. It doesn't stop his face from blushing, though.

**oOo**

Dean seems to be quite conflicted about this… thing. Sometimes he laughs and seems to think it's the most hilarious thing ever to watch his Sammy being completely oblivious, and makes sure to make crude jokes and waggle his eyebrows at Castiel every time he gets close to Sam. Yet sometimes _(very, very, __**very**__ rare moments)_ he could seem to be almost a little supportive. Just small things, like suggesting what kind of books Sam likes, warn him about things Sam doesn't like, and tell him what he should _not_ be doing _("Seriously dude, tone down the gifts giving. You don't give presents __**all**__ the time. For fuck's sake, you seem like a lovesick, desperate creep")_.

And another mode is, of course, overprotective big brother. Giving the angel death glares or threats _("you hurt him I'll kill you")_ and being extremely suspicious whenever Sam seems to feel a little down.

The incident with the motel room and Sam's lack of clothing had apparently woken the protective big brother instincts again. The angel is getting another lesson, one that he's got some problem focusing on. Dean is very good at rambling angrily.

"…and _except_ for being a desperate creep gift-giver you're a damn _pervert_. Like what the hell, were you just _watching _him – wait. Not only are you a creep, stalker and pervert, you're a pedophile too!"

Castiel blinks, frowns. "…Sam is not a child."

"Well he is compared to you! Jesus Christ, you're _old_, more than old, you're freaking _ancient_ while Sam is _not old_ and he's my _little brother_ – "

Castiel stifles a sigh.

**oOo**

Overlooking that little mishap, Castiel thinks he should heed Charlie's advices _(it's not like it was her fault he accidentally ended up in a room with a half-clothed Sam)_.

So he follows Sam around, waiting for the right moment to strike. When Sam shuffles towards the kitchen muttering about coffee, Castiel makes sure to interrupt him.

"Are you going to make coffee?" he asks, maybe a little bit too eagerly.

"Yeah. You want some?"

"I would, but unfortunately I believe you have run out of coffee."

Sam frowns. "Really? But I thought Dean went to the store just yester-"

"He must have forgotten to buy more," Castiel hurries and continues before Sam can point out that Dean went to the store _for_ the coffee. "We can get lattes instead," he decides and firmly wraps his fingers around Sam's arm.

"Cas, what-" The rest of his words are lost in the fluttering of wings, and within a second they have reached their destination. Sam staggers and leans heavily against the angel before looking around them. His eyes widen before narrowing. "Cas?" he asks again, voice measured. "Why are we in London?"

"We will drink lattes," Castiel explains and, without letting go of Sam, leads them into a café. They sit down next to a window that provides them a nice view of London, with the Big Ben in the distance. Soon they both have a latte in front of them, whipped cream on top.

"Care to tell me what we're doing in London now then?"

"Drinking lattes," Castiel clarifies again.

Sam shifts in his seat. "Is it about a case? Can I help you with any research?"

Castiel holds up his steaming mug. "_Lattes_," he repeats desperately.

**oOo**

The visit to London had a rough start, but it had turned out to be a pleasant trip. He doubts Sam understands w_hy_ they went, but they had drunk their lattes and chatted and taken a walk and overall it was… nice. Very nice.

The next week Castiel declares they need more lattes; this time in Paris. For all the Winchesters' moving around they have never really left America, the exception being that time they went over to Scotland. Sam confesses that he's been on a school-trip to Germany during his years at Stanford, but that's pretty much it.

In Paris they see the Eiffel Tower and visit the famous museum Louvre, and while Sam still seems way too suspicious his eyes lit up at the sight of the museum. It certainly gives them even more to talk about, and Sam is more than willing to explain the things they see in Paris _(Castiel loves to listen to Sam talking)_.

They never stay for more than a few hours, but Dean still notices _("Dude, did you just kidnap my brother to France?")_ but he seems more amused than anything else. Not that Castiel had been worried, of course. He's already planning ahead, trying to figure out which library Sam would prefer.

The smile on Sam's face when he was explaining history and art had been dazzling.

**oOo**

They go on these little trips every once in a while _("Not __**too**__ often, that'll just make you creepy," Charlie tells him)_ and the warm feeling in Castiel's chest never goes away. Sometimes it makes him feel a little bit _giddy_ which probably should worry him _(it doesn't)_.

It's nighttime and the Scandinavian air is cool to breathe despite the lingering warmth of summer. The midnight sun is shining above them and the silence around them is peaceful. Castiel had brought them there merely for the nature instead of architecture; the lake is a mirror to the sky and the trees around them eerily still. There are no humans in these woods to disturb the peace.

The butterflies in Castiel's stomach mimic the dragonflies playing above the water.

He takes a deep breath, somewhat hesitant to break the silence. "Sam," he says, "do you know why we're here?"

Sam looks away from the lake to meet Castiel's eyes. He raises an eyebrow and a small smile dances over his face. "Afraid not." He had asked several times before without receiving an answer.

Castiel _did_ have this speech prepared, he _did_. He has gone through it several times but now he's rendered speechless. He finds himself wishing he had brought chocolate or flowers or latte, anything, to give Sam because really, he's good at _giving_. Giving presents and no words, because words are _hard._

"I," he begins, and that's about as far as he gets. I what? I like you? I love you? Sam frowns in concern and turns more towards Castiel, unaware of the inner turmoil raging inside the angel.

Ah, nevermind with the words.

He reaches up and twirls his fingers in Sam's hair, bringing his head down so their lips can meet in a kiss. Sam freezes and stands stock-still, neither pulling away nor answering the kiss. Sam's lips are soft and warm, and Castiel feels light and hot and happy. He keeps them locked in the kiss for a little while longer before slowly pulling away, hesitantly looking up at Sam's face, tries to figure out what Sam is thinking.

His face is carefully neutral and Castiel thinks the butterflies in his stomach are trying to kill him. "Sam?" he prods gently, taking a small step back to give him some space.

"Cas," he answers and clears his throat. Runs his fingers through long locks. "I, um. Look. I. I like you, I do, believe me, and I like being you friend, but I… I'm sorry, really, sorry, I shouldn't've, I'm. Sorry."

The butterflies are not butterflies. They are rocks and needles tearing inside him, weighing him down and ripping him apart.

"But I love you," he says helplessly, well aware of how pathetic he must sound.

"You can't," Sam cuts off, something akin to desperation coloring his voice. He shakes his head. "No. I'm… you're an _angel_, and I'm. Well. Not." The silence now is heavy and pressing instead of peaceful. Sam gives him another small smile, this time sad. "Listen, bad things happen to the people I love, and… I'm, you know, tainted, and I've done a hell lot of bad things in my life, and…"

"Is that why?" Castiel interrupts. "You think you're tainted? Evil?" His chest seems to tighten at Sam's lack of answer and the angel shakes his head. "Please don't tell me that's why."

Castiel loves Sam's smiles. He loves them all, all except one.

The sad, small and apologizing smile Sam wears as he takes another step back.

**oOo**

_Tainted_, Sam's mind whispers_, freak, monster, unclean, demonspawn._

He rejects the touch from the angel _(pure, clean, good) _and avoids the hand trying to take hold of his wrist _(don't touch, dirty, you'll get infected)._

* * *

**It was supposed to be happy and then this happened.**


End file.
